


Good Mythical Ficlets

by loudspeakr



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Gen, Jealousy, Lost Love, M/M, Multiverse Theory, Pining, Reminiscing, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-08-20 01:11:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8231044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loudspeakr/pseuds/loudspeakr
Summary: A collection of one-shot ficlets written in response to various episodes of GMM.





	1. 960 - School Supply Fashion Show (g)

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to post my [Tumblr](http://loudspeakr.tumblr.com) drabble here because it looks pretty and organised. Hence this ficlection. Geddit? _Ficlet collection_? Hurhur. Uh, I'll see myself out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specifically about 13:38, when Rhett made his somewhat out-of-place comment.

It’s just a bit of fun, drawing on Chase, his bare torso visible through his shirt made of tape.

But today’s theme already had Rhett thinking, remembering a time when the last school bell of the day meant racing home to his best friend’s house, sitting alone together in his room, going from girl talk to laugh attacks to shirtless tickle fights.

Back when he could watch the blush spread across Link’s chest beneath his own hands, unabashed and unafraid.

The sweet memory of it has him overwhelmed for the smallest moment, so much so that he forgets about the cameras and turns to the man beside him, to the same face he sees in his head, only older now and more handsome.

“That kind of makes me wish we were back in middle school.”


	2. 972 - Amazing Butt Facts (e)

Alex peels the visor from his forehead, sticky with sweat. There’s still no getting used to the heat from those set lights, even after working here for so long.

It’d been a fun episode today, if not just a little weird. It’s not every day that you’re asked to spank your bosses for the whole internet to see, but what else can you do besides laugh about it?

The corridors are quiet, Alex’s own footsteps the only sound he can hear, the majority of his workmates having already gone home for the day. Heading for his office, it takes the simple gesture of shoving his empty hands in his pockets to remind him: the “frat boy” paddle needs to put away in storage. He must’ve left it back in the studio.

He backtracks, taking his time and thinking about the leftover pizza that awaits him at home, when he stops just short of the studio door. There’s some commotion, a sort of grunting coming from inside. So without really thinking, Alex nudges the door open ever so slightly and peers through the gap. The set lights are turned up bright, brighter than what they usually use for filming. It blinds him temporarily before the image begins to clear.

There’s a flash of flushed skin, dark hair mussed and damp, white knuckles gripping the desk’s edge, a broad shirtless chest standing well back. It takes Alex a moment to comprehend what he’s actually looking at, and then it happens all at once: he sees the paddle, raised in the air tauntingly. A gruff command - an insult perhaps, he can’t quite make out the words - a rumbling fury before the paddle comes down hard, landing with a smack against bare flesh, the skin blooming the kind of red that would make one cringe, a branding left in the aftermath.

Alex has seen enough porn to know what he’s just walked in on, and usually he would just shut the door and think no more of it, but then it occurs to him that he’s at work, this is the studio, and nobody else is here except for…

“Do you still _need_  more?” The same rumbling voice from earlier snarls, so familiar yet so alien with its new intonation. 

It’s answered with a whimper - a whimper Alex has _definitely_  heard before - a desperate, wild little sound, before it is silenced with another smack of heavy plastic.

With that, Alex flinches from the door and hurries away before he can remember to shut it behind him.


	3. 995 - Insult to Injury (t)

It sticks with him all day.

Filming finished up hours ago, most of the crew have gone home, and Rhett is in the kitchen washing his mug.

He watches as the soapy suds spiral down the drain, watching the white tendrils elongate before they’re sapped away into the dark void.

Like a black hole. A portal into the next universe. A universe where another Rhett stands at another sink, washing his own mug.

In that universe, he isn’t alone for much longer. In that universe, there are footsteps approaching, coming in from the doorway to his left, and that version of Rhett will turn around to see who it is.

That universe’s Link is just as goofy and witty and handsome as the one in this. He can’t imagine his best friend any different, any less _Link_ in the others.

Alternate Link takes a seat at the table behind Rhett, whistling a tune as he reads the paper that’s folded there.

It’s comforting to alternate Rhett as well, hearing the contentment in the song Link carries. Until the whistling stops.

This time when he turns around, Link isn’t alone. Chase is there now, his hands spread on the tops of Link’s shoulders, travelling downwards where they meet in the centre of Link’s chest. An embrace. That Chase sinks his nose into Link’s hair, nuzzling the spot where Rhett’s beard belongs.

Rhett isn’t the type to be rattled like this. Especially by something that doesn’t mean much, a joke and nothing more. _It had been written for a laugh, Rhett. Why are you being like this, Rhett? He isn’t yours, Rhett. He isn’t yours. He isn't—_

“HE’S MINE!”

The words come tearing from his throat, unbidden and ferocious. And when he looks down, his mug is in two pieces, shattered in the water.

Shaking his head, Rhett carefully takes the shards and drops them in the bin, his trip through the continuum of space and time dissipating with every moment of reality more.

In this universe, Link still isn’t his. But at least he isn’t Chase’s either.


	4. More 1001 - Gluten-Free Cookie Taste Test (g)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specifically about 14:12 because, for some reason, the idea of Link and Lizzie going out on a date stuck with me.

He wore a bowtie. He felt kind of stupid, tugging it into place in front of his mirror. Is this what people wear to first dates nowadays? Isn’t this really overdoing it?

She put on the dress her friend gave her. It fit nicely, accentuating curves that she wasn’t entirely convinced were actually there. A slick of red lipstick, and she headed out to the waiting cab.

He got there first. The restaurant was busy – thank goodness he booked ahead of time. He’d been thinking about the food here all week, a useful distraction from the unwelcome thoughts that made a home in his head each night.

She first met him at a creative writing class. He sat by the window, glasses slipping down his nose as he hunched over a notebook, the pen in his hand scrawling furiously. When he looked at her for the first time, it was like slipping into a bed with clean sheets, the first breath of fresh air in the morning.

He noticed her looking at him during class one day. She was pretty, her golden hair in braids atop her head like a crown. She looked at him, peering through glasses that framed her face well, and didn’t flinch away when he held her stare. It was a feeling he’d long forgotten.

He was cute, she reasoned. A little older, sure, but cute. He came up to her right after class, and in some charmingly awkward way, he asked her to dinner. When he said bye to her, his hair had fallen across his forehead, making her heart sing.

She smelled like lilies, he noticed, running a hand back through his hair as she approached him at the table. She blushed as he told her how nice she looked. It made him notice her eyes for the first time, a lighter grey-green than he was used to.

Conversation began with their class, what the stories they’d been writing were about. His was about a dog getting lost in the woods, hers a period piece about a love that reached across decades. He waved for a waiter then and ordered for the two of them, as she fiddled self-consciously with her cutlery.

She had them take her food back when it arrived, having forgotten to tell him what she couldn’t have. But the waiter politely yet firmly insisted that they still pay for the untouched food, and despite the outrage he could feel bubbling inside, he relented and agreed, and the waiter left it at that. She had stayed notably quiet throughout the entire exchange.

He was being incredibly patient. Somehow the conversation had moved onto World War one-of-them, and he was still sitting across from her, smiling and nodding at all the right parts and some of the wrong ones as well. She decided to overlook that, however, because she did this a lot, going off on tangents that never quite made their way back home. In fact, she wouldn’t blame him if he got up right now and left.

He’d had years of practise in this, listening to others talk about their passions. This was a bust, he’d already decided, but he would endure the rest of the night because she seemed like a nice person. Maybe they could even be friends after this. She was insightful and warm. A musician like him, as it turned out. He just… maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she didn’t understand the fun in creating backstories for total strangers. It might’ve been the way she refused a fry from his plate when he slid it towards her. It could’ve been because, when he purposely left a dab of cream on his face, an old habit that never died, a soft pair of lips that knew him as well as his own didn’t come and kiss it away, the familiar graze of another’s facial hair on his mouth painfully absent.

She walked with him as he dutifully found her a cab. She could tell he’d lost interest a while ago, but that was okay. There was something buried in his gaze – a faraway sadness – that made her forgive him. She knew the feeling, how hard it had struck her all those months ago, so she kissed him on the cheek and bid him farewell.

She had a lovely time tonight, she said, and she’d see him again at the next class. But as the car pulled away, his eyes burning with tears that he wouldn’t let fall, it was another goodbye he was thinking about, a different promise of a ‘next time’ that never came.


	5. 1098 - Most Satisfying Video Ever (m)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specifically about [4:20](https://youtu.be/dfDsiaDKxRk?t=4m20s).

Rhett’s always been the more authoritative one out of the two of them. Link can bark out orders, sure, but Rhett just has this air to him – a natural, born leader – that makes people want to follow him moreso over Link.

It makes Link feel a little crazy sometimes, considering it’s meant to be a team effort. They’re a _duo_ after all. For instance, there was a shoot day for Buddy System, out on location, when Link snuck off to have some of his Peder make-up touched up under the tent. He’d been in the middle of delegating tasks when he was sent off, and when he came back, the entire crew had already dispersed.

“Where’d everyone go?” he said mostly to himself, carefully settling back into his seat next to Rhett.

And without lifting his eyes from his stupid, tiny phone screen, Rhett shot back with, “I sent them away.”

And that was that.

It’s been this way their entire lives. Even as boys, Link would pale under Rhett’s reputation. Sure he’d been the ladies man, but Rhett always got the respect. It was his height that did it, and the sure confidence in his voice whenever he uttered anything. Plus the fact that it was usually Link dragging Rhett into trouble with him didn’t help matters either.

But the past is the past. They’re both almost forty now, and Link’s a grown man, content enough to let little things like that slide.

It’s fine. Rhett can have all the authority he wants. He can stomp around until the day’s end with his chin held up high, trying to show everyone how much of a boss he can be.

Because, honestly, none of it really matters when the door’s locked, and Rhett is knelt between Link’s legs, cheeks flustered and pupils blown wide.

All Link has to say is, “Do that again.”

And Rhett will _always_ respond with, “Yes, sir.”


End file.
